Drunk Kisses and Boys with Black Hair
by MissHikaHaru
Summary: Haruhi has just about finished settling in at Ouran Academy, the country's most acclaimed private university, but after a tall boy with black hair bashes into her life after getting drunk at a frat party, what on earth is she supposed to do? Let alone after the kiss he mistakenly gives her leaves her confused and infatuated /University AU/
1. Hello, Black Haired Boy

**Rated T for future heavy use of alcohol and sexual references**

**That being said, enjoy :D**

* * *

It was the end of my first week at Ouran Academy, a university famed throughout the country for its splendour - from the enormous grounds, to the food, to the gold-plated front gates it was a school to marvel at. I was only amazed to have found myself there as scholar student. Not that I was at all complaining, as I sat there in my little campus accommodation house, listening to classical music on my age-old walkman with only one headphone that worked, with my baggy jumper pulled all the way over my bare feet with my knees to my chest, as I perched upon dad's lumpy armchair - that he'd _insisted_ I take with me. I took the occasional sip of tea from my favourite red mug, and twitched my toes in time with the music - which I kept having to turn up due to the combat it raged against the blasting dance music from the party blaring from the enormous house next door.

Being only a week into term, it was a sort of "welcome, grab a drink, get off your head and make some friends" gathering that was arranged to get people to know each other. But any kind of person to go to a party like that wasn't really anyone I'd want to know. Besides, what with my home-cropped hair and old-man glasses, it's not as if anybody would really want to get to know me. I'm not a personal believer in judging beauty from the outside, but I'm all too aware how many people are. I figured parties and such were for pretty, popular people who would find even more people to adore them; being neither pretty nor popular, I wasn't inclined to attend.

All the fraternities were obliged to go, and similarly seeing as how I wasn't yet in a fraternity I had not deigned to make myself known for the list. Nor did I even _want_ to be in a fraternity: I was more than happy as introverted little me; more than content to stay in my little house instead of one of those massive things full of noisy other people; more than at ease to actually be allowed to get my work done without distraction. I had my entire life after graduation to meet interesting people and do exciting things, but while I was still at school I really needed to focus on my work.

Not that it was easy to do so with some American rap artist chanting out some infernal song that clashed with your Chopin. Did nobody have the common courtesy to recognise that some people _don't_ want to listen to what your anaconda wants?

It's enough to drive you mad.

And, to be perfectly honest, it nearly was.

It was then, as I removed my earphones with a huff and tossed them onto a nearby cushion that had somehow made its way onto the floor, that I heard something I'd not expected. There was a very loud, very inconsistent, sound - a knocking sound - at the front door. I directed my head towards the sound, but didn't move. There it was again, a loud and insistent (but not at all rhythmic) knocking.

"What on earth…?" I muttered aloud to myself, drawing my legs out from beneath my jumper and standing up. As the knocking, at least I think it was knocking, persisted, I wound my way between the paraphernalia of still-semi-unpacked boxes and unrealistically high stacks of books towards the entrance hall. I turned once there, and found my way to the door. Then the knocking stopped. I put my eye to the peep-hole, but saw nothing but black - clearly something had been taped over it to obscure it, or something of the sort. "I hate people who do this sort of thing…"

Thinking I might at least catch a glimpse of who it was, I pulled open the door. Almost immediately I was knocked to the ground by an extremely large something.

"Oh, _Jesus_!" I gasped in shock as It slumped against me, barrelling me over and pinning me down against my own doorstep. I quickly realised the something was human, albeit a freakishly tall one - and freakishly heavy, too, as I was barely able to shift it from on top of me. With the one hand that wasn't pinned beneath me, I poked it hard in what I thought was it's side, and it groaned noisily. "Oi…!"

"Hmm?"

"Can you get off me, please?" I asked agitatedly, trying again to push them off of me. The very tall person managed to raise their, probably very drunk, head. I saw they were a boy, perhaps a year or so older than me, with black hair and near-black eyes, eyes that seemed lost in mine in their headily drunk confusion.

"Who are… you…?" they asked in a very low, very quiet voice.

"I - I'm Haruhi Fujioka, and can you get off me, _please_?" I repeated. They blinked slowly, but didn't say or do anything. Then the strange, drunk boy smiled, and it was actually a very nice smile, set against his chiselled face. It was essentially quite a handsome face, with strong features framed by that jet black hair. I'm sure I would have actually appreciated it more had he not a) been on top of me, and b)so drunk off his messy black head he didn't know he was on top of me.

"Haru…hi…"

"Yes?" I tried again to perhaps push them off me, but my attempts were halted when I felt his hot, alcohol-tinted lips pressing down against mine. Not being accustomed to being kissed, let alone by a drunk, handsome stranger, I didn't exactly know what to do. My only real reaction was to painfully extricate my trapped hand from beneath me and use both arms to roll the poor boy off me.

"Ha… you're great…" he hiccupped as I hastily sat up. _Oh, God_, I thought to myself, and I stood to face him, lying flat on his back upon my cheap wooden floor. He was hiccupping, almost giggling to himself, with his head off at a jaunty angle and one leg bent up at the knee. He looked such a mess, but he'd come from somewhere, and that somewhere was where I had to return him.

"Come on, you useless lump," I said under my breath, bending down and seizing his great hands in mine and starting to pull - he was limp and stupid in his drunkenness, and as I tugged on him he flopped upwards and, with a loud hiccup, vomited down his front. "Oh, lovely…"

"You're great… Haruhi…" he said again, grinning as I stepped on his feet and pulled with all my might to force him to stand.

"That's nice," I replied shortly, before grunting under the inordinate weight of him as I slung one of his muscular arms over my shoulders. _Brilliant_, I thought. There was no way I'd be able to get him to wherever he needed to be, if I were to ever find out where that place was - not bloody likely considering the state he was in. Like a toddler that was first learning to talk. And walk, judging by the way he staggered about. Amazing, how alcohol can reduce something so massive into something so helpless. "Guess you're just going to have to stay here, then," I panted as I tried to direct him down the short hallway to the sitting room where I'd just been a few minutes before, now thinking back to the relative quiet I'd almost been enjoying. I supposed the boy must have come from the party next door, because now he was mumbling along the lyrics to the song that had just come on.

It was difficult enough to negotiate all the clutter in the room alone, even with my slight frame, and quite literally impossible with this lumbering baby that was twice my size. It was like a bull in a china shop. Except the bull had been given excessive amounts of alcohol and was now incredibly clumsy and hard to manoeuvre. Eventually, after knocking over every single stack of books I'd been sorting throughout the day, I'd managed to dump him down onto the two-person sofa - over which his abnormally long legs trailed onto the floor, and I noticed he was missing a shoe. Upon hitting the cushions, he grunted loudly, then giggled again to himself. Then he fell about in quick succession with a number of noisy hiccups.

I rolled my eyes as I turned and trudged back through the bomb-site of a sitting room, going to the front door and closing it firmly. For good measure, I pulled across the chain on the lock - I knew the things that could happen when people get drunk. I didn't want to wake up to find more than one passed out student in my house from an after-party they'd decided to rage in my tiny kitchen.

I passed back into the doorway of the sitting room, leaning against the doorframe and folding my arms as I inspected the boy who had ended up on my lumpy chequered sofa. I sighed, shaking my head at the prospect of cleaning vomit from the cushions.

"Haruhi…?" the boy said, his voice muffled by the cushions his face was buried in. I stepped over, squatting down onto the balls of my feet in front of his head.

"What?"

He turned his face, looking at me through one bleary black eye. His smile wobbled drunkenly.

"You're cute…"

"What?" I asked, taken aback. But any response I'd intended to receive was cut short by his quiet snores, as he very quickly managed to fall fast asleep. For a few moments I was too surprised to say anything, not really wanting to wake him up again for fear of him throwing up on me - or worse, kissing me. But after a while, as I saw the surprising softness of his chiselled face in sleep, I began to smile. I heaved a great, weary sigh, and looked at the clock just above the sofa on the wall. "Well, good morning, at least," I whispered to him upon seeing it was past midnight. He gave a short snore in response. My smile twitched a little wider, and I straightened up, still looking down at the black-haired boy. "Oh, just what am I going to do about you?"


	2. Good Morning, Black Haired Boy

The next morning, compared to the blaring tumult of the previous night, was joyously quiet - there were birds, for the first time in what seemed forever, whistling to one another in the trees scattered about the campus. I could even hear the gentle rush of the tiny stream that ran half way through the grounds, none too far away. I yawned noisily as I sat up in my pointlessly large Ouran bed; perhaps this accommodation house wasn't just for one person, but for six, and you're all expected to share the same bed? Because, quite honestly, you could fit six people into that bed. Perhaps seven if one was really small. Not to mention that it was like sleeping on a gigantic marshmallow. It was ironic of me to think how it was so big it seemed to eat me up…

I crawled to the somewhat distant end of the never-ending bed to clasp hold of the cream-coloured polyester curtains, pausing a few moments before opening them to yawn again and scratch my nose against my arm. Looking out, I was forced to recollect the events of the previous night, due to being able to see quite a number of students passed out on the various lawns and pavements. With a sigh, I fiddled to fit the little window key into the lock and pushed it open. I was met with a predictably cool flood of air which permeated the stuffiness of the room - which would have been much more spacious were it not taken up by the absolute monster of a bed the university had so gratuitously provided.

Yawning once more, I shuffled off said monster of a bed and grabbed my pale blue dressing gown from the back of the door. I slung my arms through the sleeves as I used my foot to push down the handle and push the door open, knotting the cord about my waist as I began toward the stairs. As of yet I could hear nothing from downstairs, and presumed the poor, soon to be painfully hung-over, boy to still be asleep. Deciding it might perhaps help the situation or break the ice a bit, instead of entering the sitting room I went to the kitchen, where I fetched two mugs and filled the kettle to boil. While waiting for the water to heat up, I set about trying to find where in blazes I had left the teabags from the night before. But, for the life of me, I couldn't find them, so, shrugging, I surmised that the boy would just have to deal with some instant coffee - if rich people even drink that sort of thing. Who knows, perhaps he was allergic to anything that wasn't liquid gold, or extract of peasant's tears…?

_Now's not the time to be shallow_, I scolded myself as I stirred the coffee in through the water, _after all, he's going to have one hell of a morning. _I picked up the two mugs and blew on them a little to cool them down, as I started toward the door to the sitting room.

"Are you awake?" I asked as I pushed the door open with my shoulder, finding myself confronted with a surprisingly tidy yet empty room. My eyes fell on the sofa; somewhat congealed and vaguely yellow, but bereft of any boy with black hair. "I'll take that as a yes, then…" I muttered, setting the mugs down on the coffee table, beside an empty cup and a scrap of paper. The plastic cup I recognised as being the one I had left for him, full of water and with a pair of paracetamol tablets beside it. But the scrap of paper I didn't know, folded in half and resting beneath the cup. I sat down on the arm of the sofa, so as to avoid the distastefully pungent stain on the cushions, and fished it out from beneath its plastic confine. I unfolded it to see two words written in an untidy, spiky script; _thank you._

I smiled, and looked up from the scrap to see the room he had haphazardly tried to tidy. I was thankful for his efforts, albeit not the most useful ones, and felt a little better about the situation. I almost felt glad for him not being there - I don't suppose I really wanted to face someone who'd kissed me, probably mistaken me for his girlfriend, and then no doubt forgotten my name by the time he had left some time this morning.

"Oh, well," I shrugged, reaching for one of the mugs to take a hearty swig. "He's probably not in my year - I doubt I'll ever really see him again…"

All the same, as I unconsciously touched my lips, I wondered if this was a good thing or not.


	3. Thanks for the Flowers, Black Haired Boy

Surprisingly enough, I pocketed the little note the strange boy with black hair had left. I thought it a nice reminder that rich people could still appreciate acts of kindness, and were kind themselves - because I needed all the reminding I could get. For though Ouran was renowned for its beauty and prowess, its students were less so on the inside. They stalked about in packs, conversing about which of their four cars to take to the theatre next weekend, or how irritating it was that the family butler had fallen ill, taking little to no notice at all for me, walking alone with my books and big glasses. Even if they did take notice it seemed only to turn their noses up at me.

It was clear at a glance I did not belong, with my pitifully cheap clothes and home haircut, with tape securing my glasses in two places. Not that my intellectual ability mattered to them. It wasn't important that I was offered a scholarship by the most prestigious school in the three surrounding countries - no, _of course_ not. Why should that matter when I don't even have a single piece of jewellery on my body. Well, that's not true. I did. Just one little pendant on a fraying old twine cord that hung about my neck.

It was a single tiny white pearl that had fallen off mum's wedding necklace when it broke because I'd been playing with it too roughly when I was little. I'd run screaming to her, wailing my apologies as tears streamed down my face, but she hadn't punished me. She just laughed and said they looked better on me anyway. She rethreaded the pearls onto a new chain and assured me it was all okay and that no damage had been done, but I was still utterly distraught at having destroyed her favourite necklace. To convince me of my innocence, she'd fished a bright red string out of dad's sewing kit and knotted a single pearl onto it before tying it about my neck.

"There," she'd said, wiping away my tears with her thumb and smiling at her handiwork. "You can have that one, and I'll keep the rest - it's not a broken necklace if it's meant to be two necklaces, is it, Haruhi?"

"I suppose…" I'd hiccupped back. I remember how tightly she'd hugged me after that, and how since then I'd taken such particular care of that one silly string so that it didn't snap and break her necklace again. The red was almost completely faded, and the knot securing it behind my neck had had to be trimmed and tied over and over again so it had steadily become shorter and shorter, but still the little white pearl was beautiful and clean. I loved that little pearl. But no amount of sentiment was going to stop these rich kids from judging me.

Deciding I'd rather had enough of them staring at me, I quickened my pace as I continued on to my foreign language class. It was as I climbed the stairs hurriedly that I found myself bump into someone.

"S-Sorry!" I hurried to say, scrabbling about for my books which I had managed to drop. I noticed they had to, by the way they did the same. As I reached for one which I presumed to be theirs, I was surprised to find how soft it was. Looking at it, I found it was a fat pink rabbit doll. "What on earth?" I looked up at the person I'd run into, and saw they were quite obviously a child. He was tiny, pink cheeked and blonde haired, wearing a fluffy white jumper with little pink roses embroidered on the hem.

"That's Usa-chan!" he giggled, making grabby hands at the rabbit I held.

"Oh… okay," I said, giving the rabbit to the oddly small boy. "Are - are you lost?"

"Oh, no!" the boy smiled, picking up the last of his books and hugging them and the rabbit tight to his little chest. "I've been here for two years, I think I know my way around. See ya!" With that he skipped off down the stairs, and I heard him gasp loudly. "There you are! Where did you disappear to, last night?" I watched the strange child begin to run off through the steadily dispersing crowd - I couldn't see much, but I think I saw him leap on the back of a very tall person with black hair.

Wait.

Could it be?

I stood up and took a few steps down the stairs to try and catch sight of them, but already they'd been lost in the crowd. _Damn, _I thought to myself. But it was too late for me to run after them, because at that moment the bell signalling the start of class began to ring. I hitched up my books in my arms and speedily made my way up the stairs and along the corridor to my classroom.

"And of course, to say thank you to whoever it was, Tamaki got them a damn gift basket."

"With the roses too?"

"Yeah, the roses too."

"Oh, for the love of - "

"Sorry I'm late," I said to the professor as I burst in, "I had a little accident on the stairs." I heard a number of snickers as I sat myself down at my desk, particularly from the two redheaded boys either side of me, but I ignored them.

"What sort of accident, Fujioka?" one of them asked.

"Probably had a seizure because our stairs have carpets and not little bugs crawling all over them," the other answered. Again, I ignored them, setting various books within my desk and flicking to the page dictated by the professor and clicking the nib of my pen.

"Not very sociable are you?" they asked together. "Maybe commoners aren't even educated on how to annunciate words properly."

"Don't say things like annunciate, Kaoru - they won't understand you."

"Oh, how foolish of me, Hikaru! I oughtn't use long words that they don't know the meanings of."

"Because then they'll try and use long words to impress us and get them all wrong and look stupid in front of everyone."

"Yes, I completely photosynthesize with you."

"Why are you even in this class, Fujioka?" the one on my right asked.

"I doubt you can even string together a literate sentence in your first language, let alone French," the one on my left said.

I glared at him and muttered out the corner of my mouth, "For your information I am perfectly capable of - "

"Fujioka!" I was interrupted, and looked up to see the teacher glaring at me. The boys on either side of me snickered, and I could see every head in the class turned to stare at me. "Stand." I put down my pen with an internal sigh of irritation and rose to my feet behind my desk. I could feel every pair of eyes following me as I moved.

"Yes, sir?" I asked.

"First you are late to my class and now you are disrupting both students on either side of you. Are you interested in this class at all?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

"Are you suited to this class?"

"Yes, sir, I took the exam."

"I don't want that kind of cheek in my classroom, Fujioka." I heard a few people giggle. "Have you been paying attention thus far in the lesson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then recite the last thing I read from the textbook."

I reached down and picked up the open book and trailed my finger down to the spot I believed him to have finished. I cleared my throat a little before reciting, "_Je ne vois__vraiment rien romantique à proposer. Il est très romantique d'être amoureux. Mais il n'y a rien de romantique dans une proposition précise._" I could hear nothing at all but my own voice in the silence left by my fluid pronunciation. Even the boys beside me did not move or make a sound._ "Pourquoi, on peut être accepté. L'un est souvent, je crois. Puis l'excitation est partout. L'essence même de la romance est l'incertitude. Si jamais je me marierai, je vais certainement essayer d'oublier le fait._" I lowered the book and looked my professor sincerely in the eye. "Would you also like me to translate?" There was a short silence.

"It seems you were paying attention after all. My apologies. That will be all, Fujioka." With that I lowered myself into my seat and resumed my hold upon the fat black pen, and continued with my notes, choosing to ignore the look of incredulity on the identical faces of the redheads either side of me.

* * *

"Hey, Fujioka - " the two boys began to say as class ended, but I'd already gathered my things and had exited the class. I didn't much want to associate with the likes of them, they'd been insufferable since the beginning of term, but I was with them for rather a while at this rate so I knew I'd have to stomach them. But I wasn't likely to go about with them anywhere but in that classroom, as neither of them took law with me. That was one thing I like about Ouran - despite being a university, it allowed you to take two courses rather than specialise in one. It helped me keep my options open, even at a university standard.

What with not having any classes until later in the afternoon, I saw very little point in remaining around the school building. Beautiful as it was, and many hours could have been spent admiring its architecture, I'd save it for another time. Right now I was tired and stressed, and I just wanted to go home and get some tea. Oh, no, I needed to buy some first.

Instead of heading right down the street to go home, I went left toward the supermarket, which was about the most normal place in the world compared to the illustrious nature of the academy. For one thing, it didn't have wrought gold gates. For another, the people were actually friendly. It didn't take me long to find the aisle I needed, occupied only by two people about my age, but I didn't take much notice of them, despite their somewhat heated discussion over the section of tea and coffee I was trying to get to.

"Excuse me," I said, gently nudging one, a boy with black hair and glasses, a little aside.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, taking a step away. His friend, however, didn't seem at all to acknowledge me, making animated gestures with his arms. "No, Tamaki, for the last time - "

"But, just _look _at all the choice they have!" the other boy, an exuberant blonde, was excitedly saying as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "Look how many! It's riveting to think of how many flavours the commoners have invented!"

"Oh, lord…" I muttered to myself, immediately recognising the two as Ouran students who must have lost their way into the 'commoner' side of town. The sooner I found the tea I liked and got out of there, the better.

"How have I never seen this place before? It's fantastic!"

"You haven't seen it before because you never thought to come this way before, you utter - "

"Oh, Kyoya, can't we just buy it all!?"

"No."

"But - "

"No."

"Buuut - "

"_No_. It is cheap and no doubt disgusting, and will drive away our customers. Absolutely not." The boy seemed to completely ignore the pouty puppy face the blonde was pulling, as he grabbed him by the arm and began to march him away. "Come on, we're going to get some quality coffee."

"Excuse me," I said, straightening up after having finally found what I was looking for. The boy with glasses - Kyota, or whatever his name was - stopped and looked back at me, eyeing me almost distastefully as he took in my hair and glasses and the oversized jumper. I proffered forward the box of tea blend and a pot of instant coffee. "These are personal favourites of mine, and I'd be willing to bet you'd find them nice too. They're a new brand too, so I don't know if you'd have had something like it before."

"See, Kyoya?" the blonde piped up, coming over to me and taking the boxes eagerly. He turned the coffee over in his hand and inspected it, almost mesmerised by the dark brown powder shifting about in its glass pot. "What…_is…__**this**_…?" he whispered, shaking it and smiling in awe at the coffee powder in his grasp.

"It's just… instant coffee…?" I hazarded, not sure why he'd react in such a way. He looked at me quizzically, and I saw what deep blue eyes he had.

"Instant?"

I heard the boy called Kyoya sigh, raking a pale hand through his dark hair.

"Yeah, you just add hot water."

There was a pause.

"_Brilliant!_" the boy shouted, and I jumped; an old woman that had been turning the corner to enter the aisle did the same, clutching her poor heart as the boy jumped up and down in excitement. "Kyoya, we _have_ to try this!" He grabbed seven more pots from the shelf and held them in his arms like his children, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you for your help!" he beamed, before turning and racing away toward the check-out. I stood there, still somewhat in shock. As she hobbled past me, I heard the old lady say, "That young man's had far too much coffee already, if you ask me."

Decidedly less enthusiastic about coffee than that strange boy, I only picked up one more pot and two boxes of the tea blend, before making my own way to the check-out. I paid my money and exited the shop, swinging the bright orange plastic bag from my hand as I walked back down the street toward the accommodation village. When I saw my house, the smallest of the lot, I smiled. I was happy to be able to have a rest, by myself.

As I drew closer, however, I noticed a very large mound by the doorstep. After walking up and stopping directly before it, I saw that my welcome mat had been balanced haphazardly over a very large package or something. I put down my shopping bag and pulled off the scratchy mat to reveal an enormous basket stuffed full of wine and fruit and chocolates, and a very large bouquet of perfectly cultivated roses of different colours; some were white, others pink and purple, orange and blue, and some were even a dark navy colour. Wondering who on earth they could be from, I looked around in confusion, perhaps hoping they were still around.

Regardless, I slung my arm through the basket's handle and picked up my shopping bag before pushing my way through the front door. I turned off into the sitting room and set down the basket on the sofa before dumping the coffee and tea away in the kitchen. I returned to the sitting room a few seconds later with my hands on my hips, frowning a little in confusion. Was it something everyone got? Sort of a 'Welcome to Ouran' gift basket? Can't have been. Well, who was I to determine the things rich people do or don't do?

I knelt down before the sofa and began rifling through the various edible delights, until finally I found what seemed to be a letter, that maybe had slipped down the rest upon the very bottom of the basket. I untidily ripped open the expensive looking parchment envelope, and when I pulled out the card inside I could smell so much perfume it was almost sickly sweet. The card had the official Ouran crest on it, gilded in gold ink. I opened it, and out fell a small flurry of pure white rose petals. Inside, in an incredibly neat and floral hand, said; _Warm thanks and regard from the Ouran Host Club._

My only thought was 'who the hell are the Ouran Host Club?'

And who the hell was stupid enough to try and hide something this big under my welcome mat?

It was then I remembered the little note I had in my jean pocket. I fished it out and uncrumpled it, reading the two scrawled words again. _Thank you. _Maybe this was another form of his thanks, that boy with black hair. Maybe he was with the Host Club, whoever they were. I smiled a little, deciding I'd try and find him. To thank him in return.


	4. I Found You, Black Haired Boy

The following day, I decided to find out exactly who and what was involved in this mysterious Host Club. I went to school with the heavily perfumed letter tucked away safely into a zipped up side pouch of my messenger bag; the hastily ripped and written note from the boy with black hair was equally well guarded in my breast pocket. I'd done the button up for extra security. Because, odd as it may sound, I almost cherished that little note. It really was a much-needed reminder of other people's kindness; despite my morning being really rather good (particular thanks given to the excess of vitamins from the veritable fruit display I'd had for breakfast, courtesy of the Host Club's basket) and my spirits higher than they had been since my arrival, there were always people trying to bring those spirits back down. Like anywhere in the world, people were aggravated by the way I was able to smile so early in the morning - yes, how dare I be happy at a time when they were still grumpy because one of their twelve pillows didn't have soft enough goose feathers? How dare I be happy, full stop.

For example, in passing a girl with long straight brown hair who was walking alone, I stopped her and asked her where I could find the Host Club.

"Why on earth would _you _want to know?" she'd asked, her voice more a sneer than anything else, as she pulled an expensively bangle-clad hand through her sleek cinnamon coloured hair, eyeing my own cropped mess with amused disdain. "I doubt you could even afford to say one sentence to a single one of them."

"I just want to know," I replied, lifting the lightly fraying leather flap of my bag and fumbling to unzip the side pocket. I could feel her cold grey eyes fixing upon my cheap bag, before they rolled skyward in her boredom; similarly, she heaved a melodramatic sigh and began tapping her foot. "I - hold on - one second."

"I doubt anything you could show me will be of even the slightest interest," the girl yawned, fixing a red bow she had tied with ribbon beneath the collar of her pale yellow blouse. I fished out the letter, now just a little bit crumpled, and proffered it toward her. She noted the gold crest emblazoned upon it, and snatched it from my grasp. Raising it to her face, she sniffed. Clearly she recognized the perfume, for she quickly flipped the card open and I saw her eyes skim the swirly writing written in that dark blue ink. "This is Tamaki's writing…" she told herself in a low voice, and as she looked slowly up at me I noticed her eyes narrowed coldly. "Why is Tamaki, of all people, writing to _you_, commoner? What on earth does he have to thank you for?"

"That's none of your business, but I'll take that back now," I said, holding out my hand to take the card, but she turned her body away from me and held it out of my reach. "Give me that card." The corner of her painted red lip curled up fractionally.

"What a crude species you commoners are," she said in a drawling sort of voice, "You don't even understand the use of 'please' or 'thank you'. That goes without saying how you fail to recognise your superiors when engaged in conversation."

"I don't see anything that could qualify you as superior to me," I remarked coolly.

"Oh, no, of course not," the girl affirmed in a sweet tone of voice, and with that she took hold of either end of the card and ripped it deliberately down the centre. She smirked as she slid one half into her expensive looking bag and crumpled the other into an uneven little ball and threw it into my face. "Oops," she pouted as it bounced off my forehead and onto the floor. "My regards to Tamaki, should you find him, little commoner." She sauntered away at that, laughing darkly under her breath, as I was left to stoop to my knees and retrieve the ripped up ball of paper from the painstakingly polished floor. I quickly unravelled it and found she had left me with only the Ouran crest on the front and not the message, now making it a perfectly ordinary and indiscernible piece of paper that could have been ripped from the front of the academy brochure. And now, should I ever find the infernal Host Club, I would look so very strange with just an odd brochure page as proof of being the rescuer of one of their members. Or perhaps I wouldn't need identification? Perhaps that strange boy with black hair would remember me? I hoped he did. More accurately, I hoped he remembered me and not the kiss.

With a sigh, I stuffed the halved card back into my bag and stalked off to find one of the many vast libraries, where I perhaps could find solace for an hour or two until my next class.

* * *

'Solace.'

Ha.

How wrong I was. I should have guessed before I even opened the door that it wasn't somewhere for studying. Like everywhere else, it was a place for complaining about the terrible and burdening lives of the super rich and beautiful. I sighed, turning away and closing the door. I picked up my bag and slung it back over my shoulder, pushing the thick-rimmed glasses up my nose. I started walking away, hoping to find somewhere quiet to study. I would have been happy enough with a broom cupboard, but knowing Ouran they would definitely have been bigger than my bedroom. Way for those damn wealthy snobs to rub it in my face. Besides, the school had four libraries - you'd think at least one of them would be quiet.

I passed a corridor of high windows on the second floor, and paused to look at a flock of white birds flying past behind the clean glass. I dropped my bag on the sleek floor beside me, and walked over to press myself against the window. My breath fogged on the glass, and I looked out at the birds as they flapped up through the chilly Spring skies. They flew up and out of sight behind a group of large, fluffy white clouds. Thin rays of weak sunlight broke through them like sweeps of a watercolour brush, illuminating the courtyard below, where a number of students were lounging about on a bench and chattering noisily. The cherry blossoms above them, were just coming into bud, small pink petals starting to show along the dewy branches. A few droplets of rain were still stuck to the windows from this morning's quick shower. As the sunlight shone through them, tiny rainbows danced along the floor and walls around me.

I smiled faintly, putting a hand on the cool glass of the window. I looked up at the clouds, the sunlight fading for a moment. As it did so I started away down the corridor, towards the wide carpeted staircase to the next floor. After spending just over a week at this school, I still didn't know if it was possible to find a quiet place to just sit and study, other than my little accommodation home - and I was far too tired to go traipsing back there for so little time before having to come back for my next class. All the other students had such high standing or rich families that it didn't seem to matter what they did with their education. I was starting to think that all these rich kid snobs just came here to have a good time, getting away from said families to live in the lap of luxury as free as most fine-looking young adults without consequence to their actions. Apart from the fact each and every one of their actions led to distracting _me_ from my studies; studies which I actually took seriously.

Ascending the stairs slowly, I looked up and down the corridor as I rounded the banister. There were lots of doors but I knew already that a number of them were occupied with classes. I looked behind me and down the other end of the corridor, to see it bereft of anything but a collection of vast paintings and a double doorway at the very end. Deciding this was perhaps my best bet, I started down toward it, walking slowly so as to admire the artworks upon the walls; Pre Raphaelite, mostly, and highly romanticised with roses and incredibly beautiful women. I reached the end of the corridor, and looked at the plaque on the wall beside the high double doors. It declared the room to be Music Room 3. As a precaution, I put my ear to the smooth surface of the door and listened for any sign of life or lesson from within, but no such sound reached my ears.

"Well, seems about the only place I'll find, on campus," I told myself as I pushed down on the handle and swung the door open, not expecting it to be occupied. But it was. I stopped suddenly as I found myself confronted by the backs of six males, two of which I recognised as the insufferable pair of redheads who pestered me so incessantly. I was about to try and back out quietly so as not to disturb whatever the small gathering was for, but my footsteps had been detected.

"What are you doing here?" the twins asked me, both having turned their heads in unison to see me in the doorway - the four other heads subsequently stared at me in quick succession. Immediately I recognised them all; two were blonde, one being the tiny boy with the pink rabbit and the other who was obsessed with coffee; the other two had black hair, one with glasses and the other was incredibly tall and messy haired. "Don't you know it's rude not to knock."

"I - I - " I began to stutter, not having formed my conversation to the boy with black hair before I now tried to address him with words I drew from nowhere.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," said the one on the right, "They don't understand us, do they?"

"No, we have to speak in French," said the one on the left.

"You - "

"French!" cried the coffee boy, clapping his hands together and beaming elatedly, "_C__ette belle langue_ _de ma mère!_"

"_Oui, ce_ _très be_ \- ah, sorry, I'm not here for - "

"Oh, but of _course_, you're not here for speaking French," the boy with glasses interrupted, walking toward me and extending a hand, "I wouldn't have thought so - not from such a prestigious honour student as yourself. Your sights must be set on something far more regarded in the public eye, yes - Haruhi Fujioka?"

"You know who I am?" I asked with great surprise, almost giddily accepting his hand and feeling him shake it firmly. It was such a shock to have been recognised for my real name and not 'commoner', even though it really shouldn't have been.

"Why, of course," the boy smiled wanly, releasing my hand. "It's not everyday we have a commoner in our midst here at Ouran - you must have an audacious nerve expected only from those of the highest calibre." Aaaand there it was - the ever-favoured 'c word'. I couldn't help but feel my intial hopefulness at being realised as human and not a sub-species of pauper deflate. "You're infamous."

"Oh... right," I mumbled.

"You're highly intelligent to have sought us out, of course," he continued, and I looked up with renewed surprise at having been paid an actual compliment. "You're the first to have shown interest in joining our fraternity who actually has something to offer - intellectually, of course, because forgive me for saying that your appearance is in dire need of assistance."

"I - what?"

"It's a mixture of everything, really - the hair, the clothes, the posture - "

"No, that's not what I meant," I added hastily. They all looked at me quizzically; the tiny blonde boy with the pink rabbit even cocked his head to one side, rather like a confused puppy. "I don't mean to give the impression of expressing any interest at all in joining your fraternity - no offence intended to you, of course, but… Well, really, I only came to see one of you…"

"One of us?" Coffee Boy repeated, and I nodded. It seemed to take a second or two to click for him. "One of us! Aaah, I see!" I nodded again, letting out a short breath of laughter, thinking that perhaps he'd turn about and usher forward the tallest one. "So you're a _customer_!"

"Yes, I - wait, what do you mean by customer?"

"Who would have thought such a reputable honour student," said the twins together, looking me up and down, "would be so openly gay?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"So!" the blonde boy who was so fanatical about caffeinated drinks chimed, having come over and thrust an arm about my shoulders. "Tell me what kind of guy you're into!"

"Excuse me!?" He extended his other arm to point at each boy in turn, beginning with the boy with glasses.

"Do you like the Cool type?" he inquired, and I grimaced in bewilderment.

"Actually, I'm not - "

"Not into that sort of thing, okay, I understand!" Coffee Boy acknowledged, wheeling me about to face the other boys, now pointing at the twins. "How about the mischievous type?" At the thought of those two being my 'type' I barely suppressed a scoff. "Not them either, then. Alright, what about the boy lolita?" he suggested, waving his hand down to the tiny boy who grinned at me, his fat pink cheeks glowing.

"Um, how old is he, exactly?"

"Oh, I see, you perhaps don't like them looking too young - then tell me…" His hand arched upwards and rested pointing at the tall boy with black hair, who looked at me with a very vague curve of a smile upon his very thin lips. At the sight of those lips I almost blushed to think they'd actually - _oh, shut up, Haruhi!_ "What do you think of the strong, silent type?" I was barely able to open my mouth, nor form a response, before he'd released my shoulders and instead his arm had slipped to hook about my waist, pulling me closer, his other hand taking a light old of my chin. "Or, maybe, you're into a guy like me…" he breathed, and his face moved tantalisingly close to mine, which felt grow hot with embarrassment, "…the princely type."

He winked, flashing a dazzling smile of brilliant white teeth.

"Sorry, but I don't think so," I said curtly, unhooking his arm from about me and pushing him away, trying to regain my composure with a not at all subtle cough to clear my throat. "I'm not especially interested in any of your 'types', thank you."

"But how on earth were you able to resist my charms?" Coffee Boy asked, seeming genuinely shocked that he had not verbally seduced the very clothes off of me.

"It's not you or your charms I'm interested in," I responded, instead walking past him (to the mildly suppressed snickers of the twins) and toward the boy I had been seeking, his enormous frame much more impressive and his face much more handsome while not pathetically drunk and slumped over my sofa and hanging open as he snored. He looked down at me with interest, at least, I think it was interest - he had solid features and his expressions did not seem to change easily. At least, not while he was sober. For a moment I didn't say anything, wanting to piece together what I said properly.

"Watch out, Mori-senpai," one of the twins, I have no idea which, called, "I think you're about to witness a confession of love." I ignored his comment, which his brother had started laughing at, and instead cleared my throat.

"You… perhaps won't remember me," I started to say, looking up and connecting eyes with the tall boy. His eyes were darker than I remembered them being, deep and yet still bright, like a sky full of stars. I smiled, just a little. "My name's Haruhi Fujioka - you, um… you got a bit carried away at a party a few nights ago and ended up sleeping on my sofa. I gave you some paracetamol and water, and you thanked me by writing this." I unbuttoned my breast pocket and fished out from within it the tiny piece of crumpled paper, upon which he had written his thanks. He took it from me with hands that were surprisingly tender considering their inordinate size, and he smiled little to see it. "You also tidied up all the mess in my sitting room, which was far more than I could have expected of you. I suppose I just wanted to thank you." He nodded gently, and my smile widened a smidge. I was only pleased not to have had to present some form of identification, otherwise it perhaps could have taken an odd turn.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he replied after a few moments, and his voice was low and deep and mild. It was a very calming voice, unlike the excitable natures of the others in the Host Club. "Is that all that happened? I don't remember very much. Only, I did rather noticed I'd stained your sofa as well as slept on it."

"No, it's quite alright," I remarked, "It's not a huge calamity. But... yes, that's all." I did not think it wise to mention the fact that he had also kissed me quite vigorously. The boy nodded, seemingly relieved, and proffered the scrap of paper back to me - I reached up to take it, and as I did so his fingers just brushed against mine and lingered for a moment, warm and very gentle to the touch.

"Well, that's alright, then," I heard Coffee Boy say brightly, and he appeared at my shoulder rather like a golden retriever; I hastily retracted my hand and tucked the paper away back into my pocket, clearing my throat. "I take it you got my gift basket?"

"Yes, it was lovely," I affirmed, taking a step backward from him, which eh mirrored by taking two - he didn't seem a fan of upholding values of personal space, or else did not understand them. "Th-thank you. Although, I really don't know why you hid it underneath my welcome mat."

"To throw people off, of course," he said, "We hid it so that people wouldn't steal it."

"_You_ hid it, you great buffon," the twins scoffed from behind him.

"Indeed you are welcome for the gift. But it is we who should be thanking you, Haruhi Fujioka," called the boy with glasses, who also now began to approach. "First you take in and care for one of our members, and then you advise the Host Club without even realising it."

"I did?"

"Why, of course - that coffee you recommended us brewed up a storm with our customers." I continued to slowly pace backward in the direction I believed the door to be in as the two boys advanced on me, not threateningly but still with a certain power to them.

"Oh, I - you're welcome, then."

"Are you quite sure you won't join us?" asked the bespectacled boy, withdrawing a little black notebook from a pocket of his fitted grey jacket. "I'm sure you'd be of invaluable resource and income for our fraternity. You could even move out of that hovel of an accommodation home and stay in the fraternity house, with us." At this I saw the tiny boy with the rabbit beam and begin to tug excitedly on the arm of the boy with black hair.

"Thank you, but I'm quite honestly not qualified in any way to be in a fraternity," I rushed to say, putting out my hands as a kind of barrier to send them the message to stop following me.

"And why is that?" asked Coffee Boy, who had suddenly quickened his pace in his apparent eagerness to recruit me. _Well, _I thought, _considering how I'm not actually a male, as you somehow believe me to be…_

"Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," I started to say quickly, similarly quickening my backwards footsteps, "but I really don't - " It was then that I tripped over my own stupid feet, and was sent tumbling backwards into a pedestal that I hadn't noticed upon entering the room. Upon said pedestal was a dark blue and gold vase, beautifully sculpted and positioned upon a velvet cushion. Or, at least, it was upon said pedestal - that is until I fell into it, and thereby caused it to tumble from its placement and fall to the floor, where it shattered into glittering debris.

Silence seemed to hang, petrified, as my heart thumped loudly in my ears. I then heard the sound of a pen scribbling against paper, and looked up to see the boy with black hair and glasses writing hurriedly in his little notebook.

"Exactly, Fujioka," he said coolly, looking up at me and pushing his oval shaped glasses up the bridge of his nose with a thin, pale forefinger. I saw the curl of his sardonic smile. "You really don't have a choice."

With that, he snapped his notebook shut.


	5. I Owe You, Black Haired Boy

"What the hell is that…?"

"That, Haruhi, would be your new home."

"But I - "

"No need to thank us."

"I wasn't planning on it…" I said meekly, staring up incredulously at the enormous house, more like a castle, with rose bushes lining the limestone path to the front steps, trellises of hydrangeas blossoming up every clean white wall. I could hear a fountain splashing nearby, perhaps behind the large topiary of a peacock; I was surprised I hadn't seen a live peacock come sauntering by yet. The house looked even more expensive and extravagant than the school itself. Even the windows probably cost more than any ordinary person would earn in a week. I felt an odd lump rise in my throat at the idea of living here. "C-Can't I stay in my old house?"

"Certainly not," said Kyoya curtly, and I weakened a little more. "If you're going to be a member of our club, and hence our fraternity, it is required of you to live with us in the house provided for said fraternity."

"But I never wanted - "

"No more complaints out of you, please," the bespectacled boy said, walking past me and heading toward the front of the huge white house. The twins began to follow him, jolting me on either side as they went.

"Yeah, commoner," one said.

"You should be thankful that people like us are letting you live with us," the other said. I scowled at their backs as they walked away in perfect synchronisation with one another. Once again I felt Tamaki's exuberant hand clap about my shoulder.

"Come along, now!" he said brightly, starting to frog-march me after them. I cast a pleading look over my shoulder at the boy with black hair, trying to get his or anyone else's attention.

"Look, I - "

"I already said, you don't need to thank me," Tamaki interrupted, smiling cluelessly at me.

"No, it's just that - "

"It's alright, I know you're attracted to me, no need to be so nervous around me."

"As if I would ever - "

"Haruhi," Kyoya said sharply, and the way the sunlight glared off his glasses and turned them opaque and shining scared me into silence. "That's better - you were starting to give me a headache." Behind me, I heard the little blonde boy - who I had been informed was, in fact, twenty years old - giggle. I was about to look at him, when Kyoya fitted a little gold key into the lock and pulled open the excessively large double doors. I was ushered quickly inside, and it was as though I walked through a solid wall from crisp, spring air to the omnipresent aroma of perfume. Quite honestly, the very air inside that enormous entrance hall veritably reeked of roses - perhaps due to the ornate spiral staircase ascending against one round wall being decorated with colossal garlands of multicoloured blooms. I recognised them as the same kinds of roses sent to me in my gift basket. I supposed there was no mistaking it then; this really was the Host Club, and I hadn't accidentally met with a bunch of caffeinated circus performers with polygamist sex drives.

At the moment, I would probably have preferred the latter.

"Well, what do you think, Haru-chan?" the tiny twenty-year-old asked, beaming up at me as he hugged his fat pink rabbit. I was too stunned for words, taking a few awed steps forward and staring up at the ceiling that was so much higher than it had looked from the outside; due to the entrance hall being round, the entire circular ceiling was made up of a gargantuan glass clock, with the sunlight streaming through it like a skylight and illuminating where I stood. From the clock's centre hung a glittering chandelier, the light refracting from every little crystal and casting miniscule rainbows across every wall. I turned about slowly, taking in everything the vestibule had to offer - the blossoming vases lining the walls, the decorated doors leading on to never-ending rooms, the entire corridor of windows on the floor above, just masked by the rose-clad banister.

"I… I don't know what I think…"

"Obviously never been in a room this big before," one of the twins intoned.

"Let alone a house," muttered the other.

"No, I haven't," I said shortly, looking at them in annoyance, "And there's no shame in it, either."

"Quite," Tamaki affirmed, knocking them both on the back of the head. "And you two," he continued as they cried out in pain, "would do well to be nice to your new brother in arms."

"Actually - " I began, trying yet again to convince them that I was, in fact, female, but he held up a well-manicured hand to me and interrupted.

"Now, now, that's quite enough conflict for one day - I won't hear anymore about it," he remarked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together intently. He beamed, flashing his dazzlingly white teeth at me. "So, Haruhi, what do commoners like to do?" The question was so bizarre I was almost taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, since class time is over, and the day is still young," he began, watching me with interest as though I were an unexpected anomaly in some experiment, "as our newest member, you can decide what we do this afternoon." I felt all eyes fix on me in waiting.

"I really don't mind…" I said numbly, awkwardly folding my arms.

"How helpful," the two redheads uttered.

"Well," I began, then paused. I supposed that if I really was caught p in all this mess, I'd have to go along with being part of their club sooner or later. With a sigh I looked up at Tamaki, who waited expectantly for me to speak. "I guess it'd be useful for you guys to tell me what the Host Club is all about."

* * *

"So…" I said, frowning at the gleaming coffee table as I slumped back in the inordinately comfortable armchair, "you guys just ceaselessly flirt with girls for money?" Tamaki heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"We don't _flirt, _we _entertain_."

"But your description of entertainment is flirting."

"I don't think you're quite getting it, Haruhi."

"I don't think you are, either," I said bluntly, and the boys all looked at me, a little affronted but mostly curious; all, that is, save for the twins, who were instead playing some videogame on the sixty-inch 3D television in the background. "What you're doing is giving girls the wrong idea in that you're interested in or attached to them, and then you go and do exactly the same to her friend two minutes later. It's like cheating, but a… cheap, and somehow even more unkind version, because you're getting _paid_ for it."

"You must misunderstand, Fujioka," interrupted Kyoya, setting down his teacup and looking at me over the tips of his closed fingers. "We are a group of young men who seek to entertain ladies who _ask_ for such things; why else would we be the most popular club and fraternity? Why else would we have been granted such a house as this? Girls _want _to feel interested in and attached to."

"Well, I don't," I said without thinking, and within an instant I realised what an absolute idiot I had been. There was an odd sort of silence, and I prepared myself for the inevitable shouting match or whatever other kind of madness was soon to ensue. The boys exchanged confused glances, eyebrows furrowed.

"Obviously not, Haruhi," Tamaki said matter-of-factory, and I stared at him - how was he being so calm about this? "After all, you're not even a girl - such silly things you commoners say, it's positively adorable."

"Oh, I... I mean..." I started to mumble, but was interrupted by Kyoya clearing his throat.

"If your outburst is quite finished, I should like to continue my explanation for you, Haruhi." He raised his eyebrows at me and I nodded awkwardly. "Thank you. As I have stated, a majority of young women have a strong desire to be of interest to young, handsome men. As such, we, as young and handsome men, provide such an impression as to appease any woman's desires - hence things such as the Type System, which - "

"That's all very well, but it's so artificial," I responded.

"How argumentative you are," he acknowledged, and I raised an eyebrow, "Not only do you consistently counter me, but interruptions appear your forte. However, your last comment is heartily untrue; I think, in time, you will realise us all to be men of great affection." Tamaki smiled, similar to how the bunny boy beamed as he squeezed on said bunny. At the idea of such a conniving individual as Kyoya being 'affectionate' I had to suppress a sarcastic laugh. "The relationships we maintain with our young ladies are purely genuine - not in the romantic sense, due to the prerogative of the club itself we cannot afford true romance, though we uphold strong familiarity and friendship with every person who visits. Does that reassure you, somewhat?"

In truth, since such an explanation, it didn't seem quite so heartless (or too much like male prostitution, as had been my first impression of Tamaki saying 'young ladies come to us and we entertain them for a small fee'). I nodded slowly as I thought it all over.

"Okay…" I murmured, and the corner of Kyoya's lip cocked a thin smile. "I guess it isn't anything heartbreaking, or obscene. There's actually surprisingly little to fault."

"Are you _trying_ to find fault with us, Haruhi?" the bespectacled boy asked wryly.

"Well, it's easy enough," I said.

"Is that so?" he inquired coolly.

"No thing, however excellent, can ever be perfect," I told him, "Hence, automatically, there is fault."

"And yet, do we not all strive for perfection, regardless?"

"The essence of being human is that we do _not_ seek perfection."

"George Orwell," Kyoya commented, and I nodded. He smiled a little at me across the table. "I'll say one thing for you, Fujioka - you're naturally articulate. It's as if you enjoy arguing with me."

I opened my mouth to reply, but then Tamaki yawned and stretched extravagantly.

"Well, why _should_ one seek perfection when you've already attained it?" he sighed, running a manicured hand through his sleek blonde hair. "Just look at me, for example." The boy with the rabbit giggled, and I watched as he began unwrapping a number of bright pink sweets. In fact, I'd been watching him throughout Tamaki's explanation of the Host Club and its ways; the tiny blonde, whose name I had learned was Mitskuni Haninozuka, seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with sugary things. Over the last hour or so I had witnessed him devour a whole two-layer strawberry cake, three bars of chocolate and was nearing the completion of a sixth box of hand-wrapped bonbons; the wastepaper basket resting beneath his feet, which barely even extended over the edge of the enormous sofa, was completely overflowing with discarded wrappers. "Wouldn't you agree, Haruhi?"

I jumped, not realising he had made his way round to me and was now leaning over the back of my chair.

"When I think of myself, I think of art," he continued, perfectly unaware of how uncomfortable he was making me, "For God truly made a masterpiece of my existence, did he not?"

"I - no, not really," I answered, and he seemed genuinely shocked that someone could think he was anything less than beauty incarnate. He fell into a catatonic state; by this I mean he peeled himself away from the sofa and shambled over to the corner, where he bent down and held his knees, staring sourly at the point at which the walls intersected.

"Wh-what's he doing?" I asked, looking confusedly at the boys who still sat around the coffee table.

"Don't worry," Kyoya replied, taking a sip of his tea, "At least now we'll have some peace and quiet for half an hour or so."

* * *

Later that night I was sat in my colossal new bedroom, feeling really rather queasy after having eaten perhaps too much of Tamaki's burnt cooking - he'd been so enthusiastic at my joining that he's been positively adamant that he and he alone should cook dinner, despite having about as much experience with a stove as I did at being a Host. I'd been told, quite expressly, by Kyoya that initially I would not be a fully fledged Host, but would instead help around by carrying tea sets and such until I learned the ropes. Not that I was any more keen than I already had been to 'learn the ropes' but I supposed I would have preferred to be on the sidelines than right at the centre, flirting with girl after girls. Though I guessed, being a girl myself, it'd be easier to talk to girls than with guys, so despite everything I needn't worry _too_ much.

Still, as I looked at the bed - larger still than the absolute monster of a bed back in my old accommodation - I was rather worried that I'd disappear within its mattress and spend fifteen years in Narnia before managing to get out of it the next morning. As such, it was impossible to sleep on it - it was a lush I'd never experienced, and I practically sank a whole foot into it. It was so comfortable it became uncomfortable. I even began to miss the still-too-large bed at the little house on the other side of campus. Despite the incredible beauty and splendour of the fraternity house, it was all just too much for someone like me. Let alone the lack of privacy; I didn't know if it was a male thing, or just these incorrigible boys in particular, but it was near impossible to do anything without them dogging me and wanting to join in. Even when I'd requested a shower, Tamaki had burst in, asking what movie I wanted to watch, and I'd nearly fallen out of the bathtub in attempts to keep the shower curtain obstructing me from his view; he now had a lump on the back of his pretty blonde head where I'd thrown the shampoo bottle, and all through watching the film he'd been sniffling.

I missed the privacy of the old house, and its simplicity, and the fact that none of my things had been brought over yet, save for my schoolbag which I'd had on me as they'd marched me straight to this house directly after having broken that infernal vase. I just wanted to go back there. As lovely as this house was, with its fancy seven-dial shower and surround sound 3D television, I really only wanted and needed something simple and to myself. I wasn't especially sociable by default, hence why I had asked specifically for a single-bedroom accommodation house. While I was sure the Hosts were all very interesting people to share with, the fact I had to share at all wasn't favourable to me.

So, very quietly, as it neared two in the morning, I put on my shoes and slung my bag over my shoulder. I padded over to the door, and listened intently for a few seconds. All I could really hear was vague snoring from the rooms down the landing, and figured I was safe to go. I gently twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open, slipping out and closing it again very softly. On tiptoe I began toward the head of the spiral staircase, just beyond the door to Tamaki's room; I was thankful the house was so carefully renovated that not a single floorboard creaked. In passing Tamaki's room I paused for a few moments, hearing him muttering something in his sleep, before continuing. Feeling my heart pattering inside my chest, I made my way quietly down the stairs. I was on one of the last few steps when a door opened, and light flooded the entrance hall, traitorously illuminating me as I stared, wide-eyed, at the tall figure silhouetted in the doorway.

"Haruhi?"

"Mori-senpai?" I whispered. The figure started towards me, and I saw the enormous black haired boy in just a pair of sweatpants, beads of sweat rolling from his forehead and powerful arms; I hastily averted my eyes from him and his bare chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Ssh!" I put a finger to my lips, and he frowned a little. "I don't want to wake them…"

"But what are you doing?" he breathed, now standing directly before me. I made a point of keeping my eyes fixed upon his face.

"I can't sleep…"

"Me neither," he replied, "that's why I was in the gym." _Typical, _I thought to myself, _the frat house even has a gym._ "But you've got your bag - are you going somewhere?"

"I… I'm going to be honest - I can't stay here," I told him, running an aggravated hand through my hair. "I'm sure you guys are great and all that, but this house is just - and with the - I can't - "

"Haruhi," he interrupted me in a whisper, "It's okay. Go."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. He nodded.

"Go. And in the morning I'll act surprised to see you gone, as well."

I smiled fractionally, and he did too.

"Thank you. I really owe you one."

"Don't mention it," he replied, extending a large hand to shake. I complied, feeling how warm and surprisingly gentle his hold was. "I owed you for a few nights ago."

"You've already done mor than enough for me - just your thanks was enough, really."

"Even so, guys need to help eachother out." The sentiment would have been great if I were not actually female. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, and for some reason it were as though I were compelled to tell him.

"About that," I began, "Mori-senpai I'm not actually a - "

"Oh, don't bother with all that honorific crap," he told me, letting go of my hand. "We're at uni, not high school - you may as well just call me Takashi."

"O-okay…" I mumbled. He smiled momentarily, and clapped me on the shoulder as he made his way to pass me and go up the stairs to bed.

"Goodnight, Haruhi," he intoned.

"Goodnight," I replied, continuing on my way toward the front door. As I reached it, I realised I didn't quite know where to go for the Host Club. "Wait!" I called, in the loudest whisper I thought safe. He turned at the top of the staircase and looked at me. "Where do we actually Host?"

"Music Room 3," he said, and I nodded to show my acknowledgement. "Two o'clock."

"Thank you!" I whispered back, and I watched as he walked to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. "Thank you…" I opened the front door and felt a cool wave of night air wash over me, and for a moment my eyes lingered on his bedroom door, "Takashi."


	6. Not to Worry, Black Haired Boy

The following morning I awoke with a start, pulled from my sleep by loud bouts of laughter from outside. Thinking for a moment that I was somehow back inside the frat house, I hastily rubbed my eyes to clear them of sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief to see that I was, most definitely, in my own house. I crawled to the window and drew back the curtains, seeing the culprits of the noise that so startled me to be a group of students led, like the prissy princess that she was, by the snobby brown haired girl I had met just the day before. As I watched them heading off toward the main body of the school, I noted how often she ruffled a hand through her hair and flicked it away, so it swung gracefully through the air - the two boys accompanying the gaggle of girls seemed very distracted by it, making her somewhat simpering smile become more of a smirk. _Attention seeker, _I thought to myself as I stood up and turned to get dressed.

I paused while brushing my hair and looked at myself. I looked very battered after a very late night; there were dark circles under my eyes, and for some reason my glasses looked more askew than ever - no doubt because the twins had found much enjoyment in pulling them from my face and ramming them onto their noses to impersonate me whenever they got the opportunity. The idiots had probably bent them out of shape completely. I sighed, thinking I'd just have to secure one side with tape or something.

Once dressed, I went downstairs and scoured the kitchen drawers for tape. I found a small roll of clear tape and did my best to patch up my glasses with it. The effect was to have a bulbous mound of sticky plastic secured just above my left lens. Checking out my handiwork in the back of a spoon, I resolved that it perhaps would have been better to stick with lopsided glasses.

"Oh, well…" I muttered, tapping the spoon against my knuckles as I waited for the kettle to boil. As the button clicked to signal the boil, I ducked down to retrieve a teabag from a lower cupboard. As I fumbled to open the new box, I caught sight of what was lurking just behind it. The bottle of wine sent by the Host Club, glinting dully from the shadows. I grimaced to think of what they were doing now - Tamaki had no doubt called the police, thinking I'd been kidnapped or something. God knows what the rest of them would think - Kyoya, no doubt, would have it figured out. And Takashi… would he keep his promise?

_He will_, I told myself firmly. _Now all I have to do is face them at two o'clock…_

* * *

"Haruhi!" Tamaki all but screamed as I reluctantly entered Music Room 3. If my financial situation didn't force me to stay, I would have done an about-face and instantly slammed the door on him. As it was, I had to endure the floods of tears and many exclamations of woe and worry as he seized me in a bone-crushing hug. The pure strength of his rosy cologne on its own could have suffocated me, let alone the embrace he now didn't seem capable of relinquishing. I recognised it as the same perfume that was on the card from the gift basket. _Typical_, I thought, _that he'd use his perfume for things like that._

"And just _where_ were you this morning?" a much colder, snappier voice asked. I pulled my eyes away from the revoltingly sentimental Tamaki to stare into the genuinely frightening black pits of death that were Kyoya's eyes. "Why weren't you in the house?"

"I was up early," I said evasively.

"Mmhmm…" Kyoya said sceptically, flipping open his black book and beginning t scribble. "And just what did you do when you were 'up early'?"

"I…went out," I replied, not breaking my eye contact with him; I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated by what he was trying to do. Besides, what I was saying - while cryptic - was entirely true. I was up early - granted that I hadn't actually gotten to sleep in the first place - and I had simply gone out, though I couldn't exactly proclaim directly to all of them that I hated the house and didn't so much as want to spend another night there. For one thing, Honey would probably burst into tears - let alone Tamaki, who might just die of sorrow; for another, I knew none of them would listen to me, anyway.

"Why did you go out?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"How early were you up?"

"Uh…quite early…"

I caught sight of the tall black haired boy as he stood a few feet behind Kyoya, and my eyes momentarily flicked toward him. He wore the tiniest of smiles, watching me with a kind of amusement. I knew from that split second of looking at him that he hadn't said a word, for Kyoya heaved an irritated sigh and snapped his book shut.

"For one usually so articulate, you really are very vague, Fujioka," he said sternly, pushing his glasses up his thin nose with a similarly thin finger. It was then that he seemed to notice mine. "What _have _you done to your glasses? You look positively slovenly."

"Oh - uh - I - "

"Never mind," he cut across me, straightening his tie and turning away. "Just rectify it at the soonest opportunity - I believe there's an optician's just down the road, you can go and buy a new pair after school."

"You really think I can afford new glasses, just like that?" I asked, incredulous, as I finally managed to throw Tamaki off me. I made as if to follow Kyoya, but the twins chose that moment to slide past, crossing their legs in front of mine and causing me to trip. I tried my best not to fall, but succeeded only in propelling myself forward and head first onto one of the lush red sofas that dotted the room.

"You mean to say you _can't_?" the two redheads mused, fixing their sly green eyes on me, sprawled across the lavishly pillowed seat. "Commoners…"

"Poor Haru-chan…" I heard Honey mumble as I picked myself up, rubbing my head uncomfortably. I looked over to him only to see him turning and walking away; my eyes turned up and momentarily connected with Takashi's, before he too turned and followed the tiny blonde boy. I heard Kyoya clap his hands twice.

"Now, our guests will be here shortly - Haruhi, do get up, it's not your place to be lounging around!"

I got irritably to my feet, scowling from him to the twins, who sniggered.

"As I was saying - after our meeting yesterday, _kindly_ interrupted by Haruhi, today is our first real hosting session of the new year. Enjoy yourselves, everyone!" This was met by scattered applause - somewhat sarcastic from the twins, and overly exuberant from Honey and Tamaki. I felt Kyoya's hand suddenly grasp my shoulder - I was surprised to feel actual warmth in his touch, and not the icy hand of death itself. "You, Haruhi, will limit yourself to only mild enjoyment. Don't get carried away - the ladies come for entertainment, not pantomime."

"Perfect…" I grumbled, feeling very much that whatever enjoyment I could ever get out of this practice would be lucky to get anywhere _near _'mild'. From what I'd experienced already, I was about to have as much fun as dog chained to a fence.

"_Your_ job," Kyoya continued, spinning me about so I looked up at him, "is to make and serve tea, and to draw little to no attention to yourself and your… sloppy appearance." He tutted, pulling a loose thread from my baggy red jumper. "You couldn't have chosen something less…cheap-looking?"

It's cheap-looking because it _is_ cheap, you pretentious rich -

"Good afternoon, ladies!" Kyoya called suddenly, shoving me quickly behind him and smiling graciously. I peered round him to see that a group of roughly thirty tittering girls had appeared out of nowhere in the doorway, at the front of which - much to my annoyance - was the pretty girl with brown hair. "Welcome to the - "

"Welcome, my princesses, to the Ouran Host Club!" Tamaki cried energetically, appearing just as suddenly as the girls had done. He thrust out his arms like a peacock displaying its tail, and I noticed he had a white rose in his manicured right hand, which he promptly offered to the closest girl to him - which just so happened to be the girl with brown hair. She smiled in a simpering manner, and immediately began following him when he moved away, clutching the rose tightly as though to make sure that none of the other girls could snatch it from her grasp.

There was something oddly possessive about her, about the way that - no matter where Tamaki went throughout the hour and a half of the session - her eyes, if not her whole being, would follow him incessantly. She'd laugh girlishly whenever he said anything, complimenting him tirelessly, asking questions the moment he paid attention to another girl so his focus was back on her. In fact, she was so fascinatingly possessive of him that I spent more time spying on her than actually serving tea - much to the annoyance of Kyoya, who kept having to herd me back over to the kettle.

Finally, as the hosting session drew to an end, I came over to clear away all the teacups that had been left around the table. All of Tamaki's other guests had gone, but still she remained - imploring him for more and more time with question after question. As I approached the table she cast a distasteful look at me, but then looked again as she saw who I was. It was obvious she recognised me - who wouldn't, in a place like Ouran? - and as I bent down to retrieve her cup I thought I saw the glimmer of a smile on her lips.

A moment later she had stamped down, hard, on my foot beneath the table - it wasn't until then that I noticed she had been wearing high heels. I cried out in shock and pain, tripping over as I tried to pull away, falling onto the table and spilling tea over her. She cried out as tea spattered her skirt, leaping to her feet and hurrying out of the way.

"Haruhi!" Tamaki said quickly, helping me up; I didn't see the way her face suddenly formed a scowl that he paid attention to me, first. "Are you alright?"

"I'm - "

"Oh, and this was _new _ as well!" the girl whined, and everyone looked at her. Already she'd begun to cry, clutching her lacy white skirt with distraught hands. "Daddy got it for me before he went away to Paris! And now it's ruined!" She looked at me, her eyes blazing. "_He_ ruined it!"

"It was just an accident, I'm sure you don't blame Haruhi for - "

"I _do _blame him!" she shrieked, pointing an enraged finger at me. Tamaki fell silent, looking about awkwardly as though waiting for one of the other Hosts to cut in and help. "What, are you just going to _excuse_ him, Tamaki? Clearly he's not fit to be working for you, if he can't even pick up teacups!"

"It wasn't my fault!" I piped up, furious that she was making such a show to humiliate me.

"Be quiet, Haruhi," Kyoya snapped, and I felt compelled to oblige - there was a deathly glare to the way the light reflected off his glasses. He bowed his head courteously to the girl before he addressed her. "I apologise whole-heartedly for the mistakes of our newest member - he's not suitable for our way of life, I understand, but certain circumstances have led him to our care."

"Hmph!" she scoffed.

"Needless to say, Haruhi shall work tirelessly from now on to become a proper gentleman, and to earn back enough money to purchase a replacement for your delightful skirt. How does that sound, Miss Ayanokoji?"

She cast a disdainful look over at me, which I returned. A small smirk played her lip.

"That sounds fine by me," she replied flatly. With another theatrical huff she flipped back her hair and stalked out of the room. The door closed behind her with a melodramatic slam. An awkward silence followed the resonating crash of the door, Ayanokoji's footsteps clicking away. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, my face flushing as I sat, crumpled and tea-stained, beside Tamaki.

"It wasn't my fault," I said again, seeing Kyoya open his mouth - no doubt to berate me. "She stamped on my foot, blame _her_!"

"As if one of our customers would do something like that," Kyoya tutted, surveying me with warning eyes. "Honestly, a weak excuse to cover up your own clumsiness - what, did she rip out the carpet beneath you when you smashed that vase, too?"

"No…" I conceded, feeling my cheeks growing hot.

"In future, I expect you to at least have the courtesy to realise your errors." Kyoya smirked and moved away, and I watched him go with a scowl. Out the corner of my eye I saw Tamaki looking at me, and when I turned my eyes on him there was something almost pitying in his expression.

"It's okay, Haruhi," he told me gently, "Everyone has accidents."

"But she really did - "

"Everyone has accidents," he repeated, getting to his feet. "As it is, you wouldn't mind clearing up, would you?"

Yes.

"No…"

He followed after Kyoya, as did the sniggering twins.

"See you back home, Haru-chan!" Honey chimed as he passed me. My stomach clenched at the idea that, even after the ordeal of a hosting session was over, I had to face them _again_. How long would it be before I actually managed to tell them I wasn't a guy? I figured that, with the way they were carrying on, the only way to convince them of my genuine femininity was to show them. Except I didn't exactly feel comfortable with the option of showing myself to a bunch of guys I both barely knew and generally disliked.

"See you," a deep voice said from the door. I looked up to see Takashi vanishing as the door closed.

"See you…" I replied, now alone in the enormous music room.

My foot had begun to throb dully, and I thought it best to rest it a bit - I didn't have any classes for about half an hour, so I had the time. I bent down and unlaced my boot, pulling my foot out and wincing a little as it brushed against my foot. I peeled back the fluffy grey sock to reveal a small, yet dark bruise just beneath my big toe where Ayanokoji's heel had hit. I winced, my breath hissing a little as I pressed the skin around it.

"I forgot my…" I looked up to see Takashi back in the doorway, staring at me with my bare foot resting upon the table, "…jacket." We stared at each other for a couple of seconds. "What are you doing?" he asked as the door closed behind him.

"Nothing," I answered, attempting to tug my sock back on.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

A moment later his enormous legs had propelled him over to me, and his enormous hands had clasped my ankle. His eyes narrowed fractionally as he saw the bruise.

"How did you get that?" he asked.

"I dropped something on my foot yesterday," I lied, wriggling my leg free so I could tug the sock on properly. "It's nothing." My foot was back in the boot before he had a chance to question any further. "Anyway, I've got things to clear away - here's your jacket." I scooped up the leather article and dropped it in his lap before hastily setting about gathering up the pieces of broken china on the floor.

"Haruhi - "

"You don't want to keep Honey-senpai waiting," I said brusquely, avoiding looking at him. For a moment it seemed he would say something else, but then he stood and slung his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and departed. I didn't notice him pause before closing the door, but he most certainly did notice the way I winced as I walked. He narrowed his eyes, and - after watching me a moment - swung the door shut.

* * *

**Literally, I'm so sorry for the delay - it's been, what, 4 months? I have the usual excuses: illness, school, exams, writer's block, blah blah blah - _but_ I also have a very exciting other reason. I have (for a while) been working with a fellow Ouran lover and fanfiction writer to create Ouran: the Musical, meaning she writes songs and I (along with a motley crew of other voice actors and singers) bring it to life. It's pretty damn time consuming, especially to edit, but it's gonna be so worth it. **

**In the mean time I have this and many other fics I'll do my best to continue (haha that's a lie, I'm going back to school tomorrow...)**

**No but really, I love writing and my stories need to get done one way or another - thanks for your patience, my darlings!**


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